


Dream Smotherer

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Choking, Club Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Yuri's Sanrio/TGC collaboration outfit, crust punks, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 19:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12217182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Yuri tests out a new look.





	Dream Smotherer

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Sanrio/TGC collaboration art](https://twitter.com/TGCnews/status/913584114145677317) .

———

It was past midnight, the peak of the wild hours of the morning. 

Marshall stacks roared with bass, vibrations thumping through the concrete walls of the basement and rattling the air. Bodies pressed against one another in a wall of flesh and spikes. The “club” didn’t have the name; it was an old airforce bunker with a cooler of cheap beer at the door and not much else. Unmarked electrical wires hung from the low roof, plastered with old show posters which flaked onto the damp floor.

Otabek's set was done. His brow heavy with sweat and his black tee soaked through, clinging to his chest as he navigated the crowd. He’d only seen the text message once his set had finished, a simple, three letter response that sent his heart pounding and dick twitching in anticipation.

_omw_

Yuri was as picky as he was beautiful and angry. Yuri liked bottle service and glass-walled booths. Yuri did not like seedy crust punk bars in some abandoned basement, filled with too many toothless guys who’d grab his ass and call him pretty.

But Otabek didn’t refuse favours for friends; he didn’t chose the venue. If he did, he’d pick only the best for his Yura. A place where he could let his shining hair down around his shoulders and grind with abandon, narrow hips swinging back and forth in tight circles with each beat. 

His back would arch and head bob with each track Otabek laid down as he watched him with dark eyes, desperately ignoring the voice in his brain that demanded he storm down from his glass-walled tower and pull Yuri into a well-furnished green room and leave him a panting, cum-splattered mess.

But there was no Yuri dancing to the set tonight, and no green room, just a dirty bathroom and a wide concrete room filled with crusties in dreads and tattered leather vests. But the message on his phone proved him otherwise. 

Yuri _was here_.

Otabek felt his phone vibrate again in his pocket as he pushed into an adjacent hallway sparsely populated with sweaty patrons. He pulled out his phone, the blue light of the screen clashing with the single red bulb that illuminated the narrow space.

_in the bathroom hurry_

Otabek’s brow flickered into a worried frown, chin snapping back up to scan the crowd again. A new track fired up from the next DJ to send the room into chaotic dance of red light and black shadow. He followed the hallway, the volume of the music still loud enough to rattle his brain in his skull as he reached the single door, half off it’s hinges.

It was a tiny space, painted in metallic pen throw-ups and peeling stickers. A corroded steel toilet jammed into the far corner and a brass tap with a drain dismissing all pretence of hygiene.

But when Otabek pushed open the door the view of the ‘amenities’ were entirely obscured by a black leather jacket. Silver spikes catching the dim red light and casting a demonic shadow on the far wall. Blonde hair tinged pink in the flickering light and drawn up into a tight, high ponytail on his skull.

Yuri turned his chin to look at him with a smirk, leather jacket creaking inaudibly under the roar of the music.

Otabek’s breath hitched as the door swung closed behind him, bass thumping in time with his heartbeat as his gaze travelled down to the shredded black jeans that revealed lines of white skin high on Yuri’s thighs. His fingertips already pricked with the need to _touch_ and finger between the loose threads of denim to find hot flesh.

Yuri said nothing, maybe because of the sheer volume of the chaos beyond the bathroom door, or maybe because he didn’t need to. Because in two long strides Otabek had him pressed up hard against the concrete wall, both hands cradling Yuri’s jaw as his mouth crashed into his.

He tasted like cheap piss and bummed cigarettes and Otabek couldn’t bring himself to question how long Yuri had even _been_ at club, dainty pink tongue slipping against his own with a wet push of saliva.

Otabek wrenched himself free of the kiss, swearing he could just catch the faintest of whines lost against the soundscape beyond.

His dark eyes trailed hungrily down Yuri’s chest, tracing the haphazard cuts of deep mauve fabric of his ripped-up tiger tee, pulled up to expose one sharp hipbone. Black jeans settled low across his hips and tight enough to cut an angry red line above the bulge of his cock.

Otabek’s jaw was drawn tight, face hot and balls aching too much to think straight. He had no idea where Yuri had pilfered that jacket. All stained and cracked from years of wear, patched and studded up with rusted accents that couldn’t possibly have been bought in a store.

His rough finger tips traced across the low cut of Yuri’s shirt, feeling him shudder beneath him as they trailed up to finger gently, _so gently_ , at the velvet choker that was fastened across Yuri’s throat.

His eyes grew even darker, dick twitching as he slipped a finger underneath the strap of velvet to look Yuri in the eye. Green irises popping in red light, bordered with smudged black eye liner.

A cat like grin painted across Yuri’s angelic face as he mouthed something that might have been:

“You like it?”

Otabek did not deem it necessary to respond with words. Index finger curling under the choker he pulled Yuri’s neck forward to press another heated kiss against his lips. Growling as he pressed in his tongue to try and destroy the illicit taste of booze and tobacco that lingered there.

His free hand pawed across Yuri’s chest, plucking a pink nipple through the ripped fabric; Yuri gasping and arching into him. Last-minute-black-painted nails scratched as they hooked around the back of Otabek’s neck to leave raised red welts.

Otabek’s hook-hold on Yuri’s choker was unrelenting, other hand groping over ivory skin and ripped cloth to yank at Yuri’s zipper with an impatient groan.

Yuri’s breathing was heavy, lips wet as Otabek broke the kiss with a lingering bite to his bottom lip, hand wrenching at the zipper of the too-tight jeans. His cock was trapped and twitching impatiently in his own jeans as he peeled the denim away from Yuri’s skin with a satisfied smirk.

Yuri didn’t have time to question when the finger hooking his chocker disappeared for just a second and he was whipped around to face the filthy wall. Painted fingernails unconsciously scraping against the grit as two broad palms pressed against the backs of his hands in a silent threat to _hold still_ , before they were gone.

Otabek pushed the denim down to Yuri’s knees, breath knocked out of him when he found there to be nothing else underneath. Bare skin where the tears exposed his skin raised in horizontal lines from the dig of the fabric, red-lines of seams dug into the firm white skin of Yuri’s tiny ass.

There was a short moment, a lull between tracks as Otabek’s fingers traced the dips and raises in the white skin almost reverently, Yuri shuddering and sticking his bare ass out further, inviting the touch with soft moans. Small pink cock bobbing and tented against the mauve fabric of his half-destroyed tiger shirt.

The bass dropped and there was a faint roar of revellers beyond the barely-functional door. Otabek was half aware there was probably a line for the bathroom. He was half aware someone had probably pushed into the room already then left again with him even noticing.

He didn’t care.

The bass thumped hard, dust dislodging from the cracks in the basement ceiling as Otabek gripped Yuri’s trapped thighs and pushed them together. The process aided by the jeans that bound him at the knees, crumpled over too-big combat boots. Yuri’s shoulders shuddered as he seemed to realize Otabek’s intent.

Without thinking, Otabek hooked two fingers under the choker at the back of Yuri’ s neck, pulling a little at the velvet and causing Yuri to intake a sharp breath through his nose at the restriction in air flow. Otabek thrust his other hand in front of Yuri’s face, keeping his stance wide and grinding his trapped cock against Yuri’s bare ass as he growled in his ear.

“Drool.”

Yuri moaned, hips hitching back to grind against the thick press of Otabek’s cock, a wide palm thrust into his face with the demand. Yuri complied licking and drooling a mess of saliva across Otabek’s palm, salty with sweat and bitter with the sharp tang of nicotine.

Otabek withdrew his slicked up hand, wasting no time in undoing his own buckle with wet fingers to pull out his cock. Long and heavy it slapped against the raised marks on Yuri’s creamy thighs, head red and angry with neglect as it trailed a clear strand of precum across Yuri’s skin.

Otabek groaned as he fisted himself, transferring the warm saliva onto his throbbing cock in a few long strokes. He pulled at the choker again, feeling a jerk as Yuri’s head snapped back to try and look at him. Green eyes wide and glassy, mouth open in a pink ‘o’ as he panted. Wanting it. Begging for it.

Otabek slipped his cock into the tight space between Yuri’s thighs with a loud moan, wishing he could hear the pornograhic _squelch_ of saliva against skin as he thrust into the tight space. Wasting no time he began to fuck Yuri's thighs, skin slapping against Yuri’s as his cock was squeezed ruthlessly between the firm muscle of Yuri’s tight thighs.

He grasped around Yuri’s waist blindly to grab his cock, head just barely peaking out from his fist as he pumped him in time with the background track that echoed through the basement. Totally losing himself with the music and the setting, his mouth contorted violently around a single word that echoed into the bathroom.

“ _Slut._ ”

Yuri must have caught the slur above the music, hips hitching suddenly backward with each thrust in a vain replica of fucking, thighs shuddering as Otabek picked up the pace to try and relieve the want in his aching cock. 

Yuri’s eyes rolled back in his head as his open mouth gold-fished for air against the press on his throat.

Otabek could feel the rattling intake of air as the thin band of velvet suddenly snapped in his grip. Yuri’s head falling forward to headbutt the wall, cheeks redder than even the red light of the restroom as he inhaled a lungful of oxygen that had been denied him. The crashing adrenaline high shooting straight to his cock fisting tight in Otabek’s grip.

Otabek didn’t break the rhythm of his thrusts as Yuri came over his knuckles. Chest heaving and legs shaking, threatening to collapse as the tip of Yuri’s cock spurted ropes of cum across his hand to drip onto the already sticky floor.

He growled as he threw the useless piece of broken fabric aside, fingers instead wrapping around the base of Yuri’s high ponytail, yanking him up from his position on the wall and forcing him to arch against him as he managed a few final, earth-shattering thrusts.

Otabek groaned into Yuri’s ear as he released, cock twitching as cum spurted between Yuri’s rubbed-pink thighs, mixing in a sticky mess of saliva and sex. He panted hard, sweaty shirt even stickier as it left damp impressions on the back of Yuri’s leather jacket.

He caught sight of a single tear worming it’s way from the corner of Yuri’s eye, painting a grey line through the black eyeliner, down the soft skin of his cheek.

Otabek released his grip on the ponytail gently, unclenching his fist from it’s unconscious grip around Yuri’s spent cock as the Russian all but collapsed to the floor.

There was another lull in the track, unmasking the inpatient shouts beyond the bathroom door.

Otabek cradled the shuddering Yuri in his arms, turning him to look back into his face, expression soft.

Yuri was still smiling, green eyes twinkling as his pink tongue coming to lick away the tear that met the corner of his lips.

“That was fucking hot.”

———


End file.
